


Patchwork Diamonds

by Sweetloot



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetloot/pseuds/Sweetloot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diamonds are hard to break, but it sure seems like you’re trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patchwork Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this picture:
> 
> http://yummytomatoes.tumblr.com/post/35217437506
> 
> by yummytomatoes on tumblr. 
> 
> Kind of sadstuck, but with a fluffy ending.
> 
> This is from Karkat's point of view by the way.

You wished you could change things. You wish you could have been a better leader, wish you could have lead your team to victory. You wish you could have stopped what was probably inevitable. You wish you could have saved your friends, wish you could bring them back. You wish you could get the shattered remains of your quadrants pieced back together. You wish you weren’t so lonely. You wish, you wish, you wish, but wishing is for wrigglers and it doesn’t do any damn good anyway.

It’s quiet in the dark room you’ve found yourself coming to more and more. It’s not very big, at least compared to the rest of the place, but it suits your purposes well enough. The entrance is hidden and out of the way enough that you don’t worry about it being found any time soon. There are bookshelves lining the walls and tables with knickknacks and such in the corner. The walls are a steely gray and there appears to be a ventilation system as well. _Too bad_ , you think, _I would have suffocated in here other wise_.

Lying on your side you curl up in to a protective ball, knees draw to your chest with hands holding them firmly in to place. You’re lying on a pile of horns. Fuck your mind for not thinking of something else to pile together. Despite the uncomfortable arrangements, you settle down and close your eyes, but find that you are unable sleep.

You’re hiding, you know you’re hiding, but you just can’t find the will to care any more. You’ve had your shot as leader and it’s time to let someone else have the reins, besides it’s not like anyone would bother looking for you down here anyway, so what’s the harm? No harm, that’s what. Just you and this useless pile of shit your dream bubble managed to conjure out of the vast expanse of nothingness.

You run a clawed finger across the shiny metal surface of the horn in front of you, a sad smile unconsciously slipping on to your face. You hadn’t seen your clown in, well, who even fucking knew anymore? It was just way too long and, in the privacy or your pile, you could admit that you’ve felt paler for the fool as time went on.

You sigh and shift in the pile again, a faint squeak going off as you do. You’d tried searching for him, tried to slip off whenever you could catch a free moment, a hard thing to accomplish with the never-ending mouth screeching in your hearing duct at every conceivable moment, but had never found any trace of him that wasn’t just your memories playing tricks on you.

You would have asked around, would have tried to get someone to help you, but you didn’t want word getting out that you were looking for him, afraid that someone would find him before you did.

Curling up in to a tighter ball, you bury your face in to your too large sweater. You weren’t going to cry. You refused. You’d cried enough tears to last you for sweeps while you were playing the game and you were sick of it. Sick of being alone, sick of your mask, sick of pretending like you weren’t hurting just as much as anyone else.

Despite your resolve, hot, reddish-clear, tears streaked down your checks and settled into the collar of your sweater. Sitting up quickly you rub furiously at your eyes, wiping them away only for them to be replaced just as quickly. You eventually give up your futile attempts of keeping them at bay and just sit there, droplets falling on your crossed legs as you hiccup pathetically, hands tugging angrily at your hair in some attempt at berating yourself for letting your life fall apart like this.

Eventually the tears begin to subside enough for you to actually see again. You sniffle, rubbing the sleeve of your sweater across your eyes and nose, not noticing the clatter of metal against metal or the soft sound of feet padding against the floor.

You should have tried harder! Should have done _something_ to keep him safe! But no! You were too busy focusing on your crumbling leadership to do anything other than be the worse troll on Alternia. No wonder he left you! You deserve to be alone.

You start when a hand lands tentatively on your shoulder that quickly retracts when you whirl around so fast you dislodge some of the horns in the pile and find yourself sprawled out on the floor looking up at the silhouette of your stubborn, infuriating, nonsensical, bloodgusher breaking, most pitiably pale moirail in the history of moirallegiance.

“G-Gamzee…?”

You can hardly believe he’s there, standing with that same slouched stature that made you want to force him to stand up straight, he knew that was bad for his back, you’ve told him that time and time again.

Crouching down he gets eye level with you, expression curious, and you’re sure your mouth is still hanging open and your eyes are impossibly wide, but you can’t seem to get your motor functions and your thinkpan to sync up quite yet.

He reaches a hand out towards your face and you don’t have sense enough to flinch away, even if you wanted to. The pads of his thumb runs across your cheek and you are finally able to get yourself under control again. He’s here, he’s real, and he’s here, and he’s in front of you, and he’s actually _here_ , and you don’t know whether to hug him until he can’t breath him or punch him so hard he lands on Alternia, so you don’t do anything as he brings his hand up to his face to examine it.

“You know, I always told you your shade was a miraculous color, brother, but it should never have to be seen like this.” He says as he rubs his fingers together, any trace of your tears gone with the action.

You don’t know when you stood up, don’t know when you pushed him back in to the pile, him landing on his ass looking up at you with wide eyes, but what you do know was that you were yelling, every word punctuated with heat and emotion. “What the actually bulge sucking fuck Gamzee? Where have you been all this time! Do you know how long I’ve looked for you across this soul-sucking nightmare? How many sleepless days I’ve spent wandering this God forsaken trip down memory lane trying to figure what was real and what was my own goddamn mind fucking me over! Do you know how many times I’ve thought about giving up on your clown ass?” You’re ranting at yourself now more than him. “Obviously he doesn’t want to be found! Karkat is such a delusional fucking wriggler to think anyone would ever actually reciprocate any of his feelings, so why bother, right? Every quadrant I’ve ever pursued has been such a spectacular failure that they’d build monuments to my utter fucking uselessness and the one time, the one single time I think I’ve finally manage to get it right-“ You're breathing hard now, nails biting pin pricks into the palms of your hands from how tightly you’ve closed them.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you stop to look down at Gamzee. A look of shock crossing your face, what were you doing? You were angrier with yourself more than you were with him. This wasn’t how moirails acted when they were angry at each other and you knew it, the look of hurt you caused to be on Gamzee’s face nearly breaking your bloodgusher where you stood. “…I end up fucking this one up too.”

You turn to run, but he’s standing now and grabs your wrist firmly, keeping you in place before you get the chance to leave. He turns you around and you don’t think you can handle looking up at him again, but you don’t have a choice when a slender finger pokes the underside of your chin gently, urging you to look up.

He’s crying and you feel like the worse piece of shit to have ever had the misfortune of being hatched. He places his hands on your shoulders and you struggle in his grasp, but then he pulls you forward and your nose is buried in the well-worn cloth of his t-shirt, faint traces of stale soda and old blood that should really make you gag, but just causes you to clutch on to his shirt tighter.

You can feel him snuggling his face in to your hair and when he starts petting your back and starts making cooing and shooshing noises you almost think you’re going to drown in diamonds. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” You whisper as you clutch tighter to him. “I shouldn’t have been such a goddamn fucking wriggler at this. I should have-should have been there for you, tried harder. I’m the worst fucking moirail in existence and I don’t blame you for wanting nothing to do with me.”

You cease your blubbering and stand stock still when he growls out your name. “Karkat.” He shifts his hold on you so that he’s resting his head between your horns. “Do not be apologizing for things of which you have no need to be apologizing for. I don’t like hearing things I know aren’t the least bit fucking true.”

His voice is scratchy and low when he pulls back to look you in the eyes. “I got it all up in my motherfucking thinkpan that it’d be better for you if I wasn’t up an around anymore, but I was wrong to the highest degree.” He swallows nervously before continuing, “So, I’m gathering up my apologies and laying my most palest affections out for you now.” He reaches down for your hand, turning it palm up when it’s in his grasp. Lifting your palm up he kisses it gently, each peck settling over a claw mark you had unintentionally placed there. “I would be getting my hopes up on this occasion that my diamond would be willing to let this clown settle what negativities be invading what should be a calm and mellow quadrant,” He places a final kiss on your wrist, “And would hope that he would be willing to give me what I haven’t been deserving.”

You’re a bit shocked, to say the least. You thought that the next time you saw him it’d be to scrap his remains off some desolate rock somewhere, or to be cutting ties in your quadrant as he goes gallivanting off somewhere doing God knows what because you were too pathetic to keep him in check, but now, now you don’t know what to think. That was a display right out of the most sickeningly pale romcom you’d ever watched and you almost feel embarrassed with how much you’re enjoying the attention. You realize when he shifts uncomfortably that he’s still waiting for a response.

You stand up on your tiptoes and cup his face in your hands; he closes his eyes as you pull him down so you can kiss the top of his forehead. “You’re an idiot.” You let go of his face and intertwine your fingers together. “We’re both idiots. We’re raving imbeciles that have the IQ of freshly hatched wriggler that tangles its feet up in its own horns, then shits itself in frustration.” You pull him down in to the pile and he doesn’t resist at all as he settles down beside you, impossibly wide smile spreading across his lips. You’ll have to remember to fix his paint for him later. “Of course I forgive you, you insane fucking juggalo.”

You spend the next few hours having a feelings jam in the horn pile, having to calm him once when he scares the shit out of himself when he lands on a horn wrong. You don’t ask where he’d been or what he’d been doing; you know there will be plenty of time for that later. You’re just glad he’s here and that he’s safe and you’re content to have that for now.

You fall asleep with your moirail by your side, your hands intertwined, and diamonds in the sky.


End file.
